Treasured Heart
by Daemon Wings
Summary: **Couldn't resist. Forgive me. ** Whoever said the French were all mean, never met Ronnie deVérité. But what happens when this sarcastic punk finds herself in the Arctic?
1. Home Sweet Arctic?

**A.N: **_I know the plot is one that is hopelessly over-used, but it's so fun! There are so many ways you could do this, so I hope this one is unique enough for some __reviews?__ You know you want to press the purple button!_

_Also, I do not own National Treasure. If I did, this wouldn't be on It would be on Eh? So, for the sake of common sense, This is the only time I will put this. Think, people. Okay? The only things of mine, are my character, her quotes, and the twists in the plot of the movie. Good reviews lead to sequels!_

_Also, Ronnie was named after ah-may-zing singer (and screamer) Ronnie __Radke__ (a guy. Okay?). However, the character herself is inspired off of me, a girl. Got it? And yes, even the part about her being French. Adding a bit of global diversity here. Deal._

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**S**unday mornings were Movie Mornings for the girl of twenty-eight, Wolverton. Yawning, she slipped out of bed and dressed, the usual "skinny jeans and black spaghetti strap" combo, before trudging downstairs. The brunette, her eye-covering bangs tipped blood-red, slumped into her couch, having put in the DVD the evening before. She lazily grabbed her remote and pressed play. Nothing happened. With a groan, she took out the DVD and walked outside toward her dad's CRV, a shiver biting her spine. It was May. Why it so cold in May? There would be this much, if _any_, snow in May. Out of shock, she dropped the DVD case. A pair of snowmobiles drove up, the driver's side door opening on the first. A man in a heavy coat leaned out. Smarty pants.

"Can we help you?" he asked.

"Nah, I'm just a teenage girl chilling in the Arctic in a spaghetti strap shirt. Of course you can help!" the brunette shouted, her temper-mental self returning as the shock lifted. She opened the second door to find someone sitting in the center seat. "Sorry...No pun intended," she whispered, grasping a cold metal bar and hoisting herself up, crawling in. Then she remembered; National Treasure. That was the movie she had put in. Looking beside her, the brunette realized that was Riley, and Ian and Ben were seated in front of her.

"Hey, what's up?" she asked, smiling despite the cold. How cool was this? Riley didn't respond, he was too busy with his laptop. A few beeps were the brunette's response.

"We getting closer?" asked Ben.

"Assuming Ben's theory's correct and my tracking model's accurate, we should be getting very close. But don't go by me - I broke a shoelace this morning," was Riley's response, still not looking up. Ben and Ian turned around to look at the man with confusion.

"It's..it's a bad omen," explained the two from the back simultaneously. Riley had looked up to say this, and now turned to look at the brunette. "Oh. Hello. Where did you come from?" he asked. The girl laughed. Before she could reply, Ian asked a sarcastic question.

"Shall we turn around and go home?" asked the Englishman.

"Or we could pull over and just throw them out here," Ben replied with a laugh.

"OK, I feel loved..." the brunette groaned, tugging on her tipped bangs. "Can I at least get a jacket, or something? I'm in a spaghetti strap, for God's sake!" she asked, shivering. Out of the corner of her brown eyes she saw Riley look to her in curiosity, but he looked away quickly. Ian threw an orange coat to the brunette. "Thanks, I'm now a mutant _citrus._" The coat was around three sizes too big, but the girl didn't seem to care. It worked, and that was all she cared about, regardless of her sassy remark.

"Riley, you're not missing that little windowless cubicle we found you in?" Ben asked suddenly.

"No, no. Absolutely not."

The slightest glimmer of a smile crawled onto the tan face of the brunette, and the snowmobile came to an abrupt stop.

"Why are we stopping? I thought we were looking for a ship!" Shaw asked.

"Je ne vois pas de bateau," the girl replied softly in French, hopping into the snow. She didn't see any ship.

"She's out there." Then Ben walked off into the snow. The brunette shrugged, and heard a startled, "Woah!" and as she turned, Riley was standing up again, snow in his hair.

"Niiice..." the girl smirked, and Riley walked up beside her.

"Who do you think you are? And you know French?" he asked, seeming rather aggravated at first, but then suddenly curious. The brunette shook her head, smiling and looking out to the endless plain of white.

"I _am_ French," she replied, and turned her gaze toward Riley. "And my name is Rondah. Ick. Just call me Ronnie, 'kay? Answer your question?" He nodded, and the girl walked off.

"Look, this is a waste of time. What would lead a ship out here?" asked Shippen, skeptically. Ronnie smiled. One of her favorite parts of the movie.

"Well, I'm no expert, but...it could be that the hydrothermal properties

of this region produce hurricane-force ice storms that cause the ocean to freeze

and then melt and then refreeze, resulting in a semisolid migrating land mass that would land a ship right around here," Riley replied, looking to Shippen and then walking off into the glistening snow.

"Ah, another science geek. No offence," Ronnie commented to Riley. He turned, and shrugged. "And modest, too. How very unique." She smiled, and whispered under her breath in French, "Monsieur Poole, vous êtes stupéfiant."

Despite her hopes, Riley had heard Ronnie's words. "I am indeed amazing. Don't you forget it. But how'd you know my last name?" The girl's cheeks flushed, and Riley walked off again, deciding to drop the topic. Then everyone froze as Ben shouted.

"I found something!"

**bdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbd**

Ian, Ben, Shaw, Riley, and Ronnie clambered into the Charlotte's holds, icicles hanging from the ceiling and ropes like deadly stakes. Riley walked toward a hammock, pushing the top aside to find a dead body, preserved from the ice. He immediately started freaking.

"Ahh! Oh, God!" he almost screamed, stepping back and tripping. In the process, he knocked over Ronnie, making her scream suddenly.

"Quel est mauvais avec vous? Vous ne vous rendez pas compte il y a d'autres gens sur ce bateau? Vous pourriez avoir la blessure sérieuse me, ou n'importe qui d'autre, pour ce qui est de cela! Obtenir une poigne, Riley!" Ronnie exclaimed, standing up and dusting bits of snow off of her jeans. She glared at Riley, and pushed him out of the way as she followed Ben and Ian further into the ship.

"Well, you handled that well," Ben said, to both Riley and Ronnie. Ronnie rolled her eyes. Riley just ignored him. Another door lay ahead, and Ronnie turned around again, looking to Riley, biting her lip.

"Sorry..." she mouthed, flashing a small glimmer of a smile before running to catch up with the others. Ben opened up the doors, and smiled.

"This is it," he started. Ronnie cut him off.

"The cargo hold," she whispered. Crossing her arms, the girl walked in slowly, the air frigid, and the room white with ice. Barrels lined every wall. "What's in the barrels?" she asked suddenly, and Ian lifted a lid off of one.

The blonde Englishman dipped his fingers into whatever was in the barrel, and moved his fingers slowly. "Gunpowder," he replied. Ronnie held her breath, not wanting to ruin the story. Who knows what would happen if she exploited the plotline.

Ben finially noticed the skeleton of the Charlotte's captain clutching a barrel. "Why would the captain be guarding this barrel?" he whispered, and opened the barrel, gunpowder spilling across the floor. A finely decorated box slipped out with the powder. Ben smiled, and said again, "I found something!"

"What is it?" Riley asked, walking over. Ben opened the box, revealing an intricately carved ivory pipe.

"Do you guys know what this is?" Ben asked. Ronnie rolled her brown eyes.

"Is it cheese? I'm hungry," she asked, smirking. Ben turned and glared at her. "Okay, okay. It's a Miashawn pipe, another clue."

"A billion dollar pipe?" Riley asked with a smile. Ronnie put her hand to her moth, holding back a laugh.

"No, Riley. Um...I'm sorry, I never got your name," Ben replied, turning to Ronnie.

"Her name's Ronnie," Riley announced, everyone turning to him. "Ronnie deVérité," he continued.

"Well, Ronnie's right. Look at the intricacy of the scroll work on the stem..." Ben replied, tracing a bit of ivory on the pipe's stem. He twisted it off.

"Wait, no, don't break it," Riley gasped. Ronnie put her hand on his shoulder, smiling.

"It's not broken, Riley," she whispered. He nodded.

Ben reached into the pocket of his coat, removing a pocket knife. The blade exposed, her pressed it into his thumb, a small bead of blood forming. Riley cringed slightly, Ronnie closing her eyes for a moment, mouthing words to songs that flooded to her head. She was brought back to reality by someone squeezing her hand. "Um..Riley?" she whispered. He opened his eyes and looked towards the brunette. "Laisser aller. S'il vous plaît." His cheeks red, Riley reluctantly let go. Ben smeared his crimson blood over the ivory pipe stem, the rolled it onto a blank sheet of paper in a small journal.

"The legend writ,

The stain effected,

The key in Silence undetected.

55 in iron pen,

Mr. Matlack can't offend," Ben read. "The legend writ...what legend? The Templar legend, and the stain effects the legend. How? The key in Silence undetected. Wait! The legend, the key. There's something. Maps have legends, maps have keys. Undetected...it's a map. An invisible map," Ben continued, more to himself than anyone else.

Ian cut in. "Wait. What do you mean, and invisible map?"

"Um...a map that's undetectable?" Ronnie interjected, smiling. Ian shot her a glare. Shaw had remained silent.

"The stain affect could refer to a dye, or reagent used to bring out a certain certain result, combined with the key in Silence undetected. The implication is to make something undetectable, detectable." Ben replied.

"Prison," Shaw said suddenly. Ronnie leaned forward to look at the bald man, and Riley looked over, as well.

"Albuquerque. See, I can do it too. Snorkel," Riley replied, mimicking Shaw's tone. Ronnie started giggling, but bit her fingers to refrain when everyone stared at her.

"That's where the map is. Like he said, 'Fifty-five in iron pen.' 'Iron pen' is a prison." Shaw replied.

"Or it could be, since the primary writing medium of the time was iron gall ink, the 'pen' is... just a pen. But then why not say a pen? Why... why say "iron pen"?" Ben interjected. Ronnie's eyes fluttered slightly, having only woken up around two hours earlier.

"'Cause it's a prison," Shaw persisted, under his breath.

Ronnie rolled her eyes. "Will you give it up? It's the Declaration of Independence," she said, flatly. her eyes grew wide afterwards though. She wasn't supposed to know that.

"How do you figure?" Ben asked. Ronnie shrugged.

"Fifty five men signed the thing, in, like you said, iron gall ink. So the scribe, Matlack, could offend the map, it was put on the back of a document of utmost importance. The Declaration of Independence," Ronnie explained, reciting the line from memory.

"That's right," Ben said, looking rather impressed. "We'll have to find a way to examine it."

"C'mon, Ben, there's no map on the back of the Declaration!" Riley exclaimed. Ronnie gave him a look that shouted, _ Yeah, and there is no such thing as cake, either._

"We could...borrow it," Ian suggested. Ronnie, Riley, and Ben turned their heads to ook at him with faces reading, _Are you serious?!_

"Nuh-uh. We aren't _stealing_ the Declaration of Independence, Ian!" Ronnie exclaimed, stepping forward.

"I'd do what he says," Shaw said, pulling out a gun and pointing it to Ben.

"Hey!" came the sound of Riley's voice.

"What are you going to do, shoot me, Shaw? You can't. There's more to the riddle." Ben said, sounding actually amused by the whole ordeal.

"Then you'd better start talking," Ian started. Shaw smirked and pointed the gun to Ronnie. "Or the girl dies." Riley's eyes grew wide, and Ben looked like he was having second thoughts about Ian. Ronnie swallowed softly, her muscles tightening and her breath shallow.

"Obtenir cela abat l'enfer loin de moi! Riley?! Ben?!" Ronnie tried to shout, but all that came out was a hoarse whisper.

"I'd shut up, girl," Shaw continued, the onyx gun still pointed toward the brunette. A sizzle was heard, Ben holding a lit flare.

"Look where you're standing, all that gunpowder. You shoot her, I drop this, we all go up!" he retaliated. Ian smirked, but his eyes showed a glimmer of fear.

"He's bluffing," Ian scoffed.

With a smile, Ben replied, "Ian, we play poker together. You know I can't bluff."

"Then tell me what I need to know," said the blonde man, flatly. Ben looked to Shaw, his gun still pointed at the paralyzed Ronnie. Riley looked scared for his life, and the Ben returned his gaze to Ian.

"You need to know," he started, lowering the flare slightly. "If Shaw can catch!" Then Ben threw the flare. Ronnie tried to scream, but no sound came from her mouth. And thankfully, no flames licked the walls of Charlotte's cargo hold. Ian had caught the flare, and smiled.

"Nice try, Ben. But you're going to have to do better than..." Before he could continue, Ian's sleeve caught fire. With a small scream, Ian dropped the flare, the gunpowder instantly igniting. Ian and Shaw ran for the door, While Ben retreated further into the holds, closer to where Riley and Ronnie stood.

"Riley, Ronnie, this way!" Ben shouted, opening a door in the floor of the hold. Riley started over, but Ronnie wasn't moving. She stood solemnly, watching the flames eat away the ice on the ship walls, watched the fire dance across the cargo hold. Riley grabbed her arm and ran towards the hole.

"What is this?" he shouted, the flames lighting more gunpowder, crackling loudly.

"Smuggler's hole, get in!" Ben shouted back, and Riley jumped in, pulling Ronnie along behind him. Ben crawled in after the two, closing the door over him and running down the passage. "Get down!" Ben screamed, and the next thing any of them knew, a loud _'bang' _was heard, smoke, sparks, and ruin surrounding the three. Unknown to Ben, the small flames drizzling into the snow weren't the only sparks flying.

Ronnie stared up at Riley in awe, seeing only snow and wreckage around the three of them. "You saved me..." she whispered, still trying to find her voice. She saw Ben crawl out of the smuggler's hole and out into the Arctic plains. She and Riley followed, and once outside Ronnie thanked him with a tight hug.

"Um...did I miss something?" Ben asked suddenly, walking closer to the two.

"Cold. C'mere. NOW," Ronnie replied, grabbing the sleeve of Ben's coat and pulling him into the hug as a cover. "That's better," she whispered, making a mental note to take up acting. However, Ronnie's brunette head was leaned against Riley's shoulder, and he didn't seem to mind.

"Okay...I'm not one for group hugs. But, there is an Inuit village around nine miles East. Popular with push pilots," Ben said, squeezing out of Ronnie's grasp. The girl let go of Riley as well, and nodded.

"We need to get back to D.C.," she said, her voice slowly returning with the slightest squeak. "We need to stop Ian."


	2. Meeting Dr Chase

**A.N.:** _I am watching the movie constantly, taking notes and Google searching for the script. XD How pathetic am I becoming?_

_Disclaimer: See first chapter, please! Sorry to sound rude, but really. Common Sense. USE IT._

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Riley, Ben, and Ronnie walked out of an FBI building in Washington, D.C., after trying to alert _another_ government agency about Ian's plans. Ronnie's brown hair was pulled into a side ponytail, and the girl's petite hands were tugging on her red-tipped bangs in frustration.

"Is it really that hard to believe someone's going to steal the Declaration of Independence?" Ronnie asked.

"The FBI get 10,000 tips a week. They aren't going to worry about something they're sure is safe," Ben replied, and Ronnie rolled her eyes.

"Anyone who can do anything will think we're crazy. And anyone—" Riley began, Ronnie finishing his sentence.

"Crazy enough won't want to help."

"We don't need crazy. We need one step short of crazy. What do you get?" Ben asked.

"Obsessed!" Riley replied ecstatically.

"Passionate," Ronnie and Ben corrected simultaneously.

**bdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbd**

The three sat in the National Archives, Ronnie listening to music, one headphone in her ear, the other in Riley's. A rather frightened look was plastered on the man's face, while Ronnie was very content.

"Excuse me," Ben whispered, leaning over the two and grabbing a pamphlet for the National Archives Gala.

"Mr. Brown?" asked the secretary. Ben looked up. "Dr. Chase will see you now," she said. Ben nodded, and tapped Riley's arm. Riley took the headphone out, relived to be away from Ronnie's music. The brunette girl shrugged, turning off the black iPod and stuffing it in her pocket.

"Mr. Brown?" Riley whispered.

"Family name doesn't get a lot respect in the academic community, Riley," Ronnie responded, Ben nodding.

"So, you're being cut down by the man," Riley said. They entered the office, to find Dr. Chase of the phone, pulling a strand of long blonde hair behind her ear. "A very..._cute_ man." Ronnie wanted to strangle him.

"Thank you," Dr. Chase spoke into the phone, and hung up. "Good afternoon, gentlemen." Ronnie gave a loud cough. "Oh, and...you."

"Gee, thanks," Ronnie mumbled sarcastically. Riley gave her a quick smile, before saying, "Hi."

"I'm Abigail Chase," the blonde said, smiling. She shook Ben's hand.

"Paul Brown," he said, returning the smile.

"Nice to meet you," Dr. Chase replied.

"Ronnie Radke," Ronnie smugly stated, a smirk on her face. She refused to shake Abigail's hand, making the blonde irritated.

"Isn't Ronnie Radke a singer?" Abi asked. "A _male_ singer?"

"Well, I guess you aren't a _total _freak..." Ronnie admitted. "My real name is Kalari Cydinn," Ronnie lied, sitting down.

Panicked, Riley quickly said, "Bill." With a groan, Ronnie announced. "Brother."

"I see. Nice to meet you...Bill." Abigail sat down again. "How may I help you?"

"Your accent. Pennsylvania Dutch?" Ben asked, looking around the office, still standing.

"Saxony German."

"You're not American?" Riley asked suddenly.

"Oh, I am an American. I just wasn't born here," Abigail replied.

"Like me, Riley," Ronnie added. Abigail gave her a confused look. Ronnie bit her lip, her eyes wide. "Err, he was adopted!" the brunette lied. "His...um...real name was Bill, bu we call him Riley. Bill was a _bland name_," Ronnie continued, glaring at the man beside her. Abigail nodded her head, buying Ronnie's story. The brunette let out a sigh of relief.

Ben reached towards a box that showed many pins and buttons. " Please don't touch that!" Abigail exclaimed. Ben pulled back.

"Sorry. A neat collection. George Washington's campaign buttons. You're missing the 1789 inaugural, though. I found one once," Ben responded, sitting down.

"That's very fortunate for you. Now, you told my assistant that this was an urgent matter?" Abigail persisted, sounding uninterested.

"Yes, ma'am. Well, I'm gonna get straight to the point. Someone's gonna steal

the Declaration of Independence," Ben replied, Ronnie speaking up on the second part.

"It's true," Riley interjected.

"I think I'd better put you gentlemen in touch with the FBI..." Dr. Chase said quickly, picking up her phone. Ronnie reached out to slap her hand away from the keys, but Riley held her back.

"We've been to the FBI. They assured us that the Declaration cannot possibly be stolen," Ronnie sighed.

"They're right," Abi replied. Ronnie shook her head with a smile, her eyes screaming, "That's what you think..." and her lips mouthing the words.

"My friend and I are less certain. However, if we were given the privilege of examining the document...we would be able to tell you for certain if it were actually in any danger," Ben tried.

"What do you think you're gonna find?" Abigail asked, still sounding uninterested. She seemed rather annoyed. Ronnie did, too.

"We believe that there's an...encryption on the back."

"An encryption, like a code?"

"Yes, ma'am," Ben said. Ronnie's brown eyes rolled softly. Riley stayed silent.

"Of what?"

"A... cartograph," Ben started. Ronnie sighed. This was going too slow.

"A map of the location of hidden items of historic and intrinsic value. A treasure map, in essence," she said quickly.

"A treasure map?" repeated the blonde. The three before her nodded.

"That's where we lost the FBI..." Riley whispered, leaning back in his chair.

"You're treasure-hunters, aren't you?" assumed the blonde Abigail, leaning forward, very aggravated.

"We're more like treasure-protectors," corrected Ben, trying to stay calm.

"Mr. Brown, I have personally seen the back of the Declaration of Independence, and I promise you, the only thing there is a notation that reads, "Original Declaration of Independence,

dated..."

"Four of July, 1776." Yes, ma'am," Ben and Ronnie said together. One half was mumbling, a "yeah, yeah, yeah," kind of tone. The other half was calm and mildly excited.

"But no map." After Abigail said this, the room fell silent. It seemed like minutes passed by before Ben spoke up again.

"It's invisible."

"Oh! Right," Abigail replied, a fake smile on her face as she played along.

"And that's where we lost the Department of Homeland Security..." Riley said, Ronnie raising her eyebrows quickly with a half smile.

"What led you to assume there's this invisible map?" the blonde woman asked.

"We found an engraving on the stem of a 200-year-old pipe," Ben started.

"Owned by Freemasons," added Riley.

"May I see the pipe?" Abigail asked.

"We don't have it," Riley admitted.

"Did Big Foot take it?" Abigail asked, leaning forward.

"No!" Ronnie exclaimed. "This man named Ian Howe took it, you twi-" Ronnie continued, before Riley covered her mouth with his hand. Ronnie glared at him, Riley giving an apologetic smile.

It was nice meeting you," Ben said, standing. Riley uncovered Ronnie's mouth, the girl standing as well and storming out of the office, leaving Ben and Riley still inside. She waited outside the door.

"Nice to meet you, too."

"And, you know, that really is a nice collection. Must have taken you a long time to hunt down all that history," Ben added. Ronnie smiled subtly. It always helps to guilt people into things.

**bdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbd**

Riley sat on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial building, his head down and his arms of his knees. Ronnie sat beside him, sideways, leaning against him and listening to her music again. "It's how I stay peachy keen," she would say when asked about it. Ben stood in front of the two brunettes, the Washington Memorial behind him.

"This is...huge. _Prison _huge..." Riley said. After the tree had left Dr. Chase's office, Ben had decided he, himself, would steal the Declaration. "You are going to go to prison, you know that?"

"I know," Ben answered.

Riley looked up. "That would..._bother_ most people," he said. Ronnie smiled.

"Ian's gonna try and steal it. And if he succeeds, he'll destroy the Declaration. The fact is, the only way to protect the Declaration is to steal it. It's upside down. I don't think there's a choice," Ben explained, sitting down on Riley's other side.

Riley sighed. " Ben, for God's sakes, it's like stealing a national monument. OK? It's like stealing him!" Riley had stood up now, pointing at the statue of Lincoln, making Ronnie fall over in the process. She looked up and glared, emitting a quiet growl. " It can't be done. Not shouldn't be done. It can't be done. Let me prove it to you."

Ronnie sighed and sat up. "Riley? Ben? Wait up!"


	3. Libraries and Galas

**A.N.:** _I considered looking at the Scene Selection of the DVD and using the scene names for the Chapter names. But decided against it. This is Ronnie's story, not Ben, Riley, and Abigail's. XD Okay, so it still is their story. They just have to get along with Ronnie. And that's easier said than done._

**bdbdbdbdbdbd**

"OK, Ben, pay attention. I've brought you and Ronnie to the Library of Congress." Riley started, turning to smile at the brunette girl, who was busy trying to braid her red-tipped bangs.

"Why? Because it's the biggest library in the world. Over 20 million books," Riley continued. Ronnie looked around, giving a low, amazed whistle.

"And they're all saying the same exact thing: listen to Riley."

"Really? I don't hear anything," Ronnie interjected, smiling. Riley stuck his tongue out at her, making Ronnie laugh even harder.

Riley shook his head, deciding to ignore the girl. "What we have here, my friends, is an entire layout of the archives. Short of builders' blueprints, you've got construction orders, phone lines, water and sewage - it's all here." Riley showed paper after paper, page after page, to the two across from him. "Now, when the Declaration is on display, OK, it is surrounded by guards, and video monitors, and a little families from Iowa and little kids

on their eighth-grade field trip," Riley continued, showing even more pages. Ronnie raised her hand on the last thing Riley listed, giggling.

"That was me, I was one of them little eighth graders," she said, then shut up again and let Riley continue his speech.

"And beneath an inch of bulletproof glass is an army of sensors and heat monitors that will go off if someone gets too close with a high fever." Ronnie interrupted again.

"Again, me. I got sick on that field trip, and then the Declaration went, _poof!_" the girl said.

"Poof?" repeated Ben skeptically. Ronnie nodded.

" Ouais, poof en bas un tunnel."

"She's right, when it's not on display, it is lowered into a four-foot-thick

concrete, steel-plated vault...that happens to be equipped with an electronic combination lock and biometric access-denial systems," Riley said, smiling in Ronnie's direction. "And you're just good with genetics?" he asked. Ronnie shrugged.

"I took the ACTs in seventh grade, and was ready for first year, Ivy League college courses. In _seventh grade._ I refused to skip," she replied.

"You know, Thomas Edison tried and failed nearly 2000 times to develop the carbonized cotton-thread filament for the incandescent light bulb," Ben said.

"Edison?" Riley asked, and Ronnie nodded.

"When asked about it, he said, 'I didn't fail, I found out 2000 ways how _not_ to make a light bulb.' But he only needed to find one way to make it work. The Preservation Room. Enjoy. Go ahead," Ben continued, turning over an open book to Riley.

"Do you know what the Preservation Room is for?" Ben asked.

"Delicious jams and jellies?" Riley guessed. Ronnie giggled softly, biting her tongue to calm down.

"No, Riley. That's where they clean, repair and maintain all the documents and the storage housings when they're not on display or in the vault," Ronnie corrected.

"Very good," Ben said to Ronnie, then returned his attention to Riley. "Now, the best time for us, or Ian, to steal it would be during the Gala this weekend when the guards are distracted by the VIPs upstairs," Ben said, while Riley studied the page.

"But we'll make our way to the Preservation Room, where there's much less security," Ronnie finished.

"That's right. You catch on quick," Ben replied. The two waited for Riley to respond.

"Well, if Ian...Preservation...The Gala, huh?" Riley mumbled, flipping between pages and books, occasionally looking up at Ronnie and Ben. "This might be possible."

"It might," Ben and Ronnie responded.

**bdbdbdbdbdbdbdbd**

Weeks of preparation went by. Ben was going to attend the Gala and steal the Declaration, while Ronnie and Riley stayed behind to pull the strings of the Archives and make sure everything worked in their favor.

Ronnie had been asked if she'd rather attend the Gala and help Ben there, but she refused. "I can't. What if something goes wrong?" she had asked. And so now Ben was in a janitors suit, about to go steal the document that made our nation, while she and Riley were seated in a red van about to help him do it. Ronnie had seen the movie before, but now she couldn't wrap her head around the whole thing. There was such a difference between living and watching.

"Ben, are you sure that we should...?" Riley started, but Ben slammed the van door on him. Ronnie huffed slightly.

"Meanie." Riley gave a quick laugh before handing a headset to the brunette beside him and putting one on himself.

"Riley. Can you hear me?" Ben asked in a hushed voice.

"Unfortunately, yeah," Riley answered, checking the monitors and tech that surrounded the two in the van. "We're all set in here. You want to go around to the front and present your invitation."

"Go ahead," a guard's voice said.

"Hey, Ben? You know French?" Ronnie asked suddenly. Riley turned to look at her in confusion.

"Um...no, why?" Ben responded, his voice echo-y. Ronnie assumed he was in the bathroom.

"Just wondering. Let me guess, you're changing in the bathroom?" Ronnie replied.

"Yeah."

"How do you look?" Riley asked.

"Not bad," came Ben's voice through the headset.

"Mazel tov," Riley replied, smiling and leaning back.

"Riley...?" Ronnie started, but decided this wasn't the best time. "Never mind.." she whispered quickly.

"Oh, Mr. Brown," came a familiar female voice.

"Dr. Chase."

"What are you doing here?" Abigail asked.

"Is that that hot girl? How does she look?" Riley asked. Ronnie slapped him, looking away before Riley could see the glassy look in her eyes, the tears forming. Ronnie didn't even know why she cared so much what he thought.

"I made a last-minute donation. A big one."

"Well, on that subject, thank you for your wonderful gift."

"Oh, you did get it? Good," Ben's voice replied.

"Yes, thank you."

"You know, I really couldn't accept something like that normally, but...I really want it!" Dr. Chase said, almost giggling.

"Well, you needed it."

"Come on, Romeo, get outta there," Riley smiled. Ronnie leaned against the side of the van.

"Hi," came another male voice.

"Hi there."

"Who's the stiff?" Ronnie and Riley asked. They turned to look at one another, but Ronnie looked away quickly. She saw an emotion in Riley's blue eyes that scared her. One she felt, too.

"Here, why don't you let me take that? So you can take that off his hands."

"Thank you."

"A toast, yeah? To high treason. That's what these men were committing when they signed the Declaration. Had we lost the war, they would have been hanged, beheaded, drawn and quartered, and - Oh! Oh, my personal favorite - and had their entrails cut out and burned! So, here's to the men who did what was considered wrong in order to do what they knew was right. What they knew was right. Well, good night," Ben said. Ronnie cringed, both from the punishments Ben had listed, but from how cold it was in Riley's van. She closed her eyes for a moment, before scooting closer to Riley.

"What was that 'Romeo' crack about?" Ben asked quietly. The ambient noise led the two in the van to believe Ben was in a hallway. "I don't like Abigail like that. I could say things like that to _you,_" Ben continued.

"Sure you don't like Abi," Ronnie commented.

"How could you say things like that to me?" Riley asked.

"Oh, come on, Riley. I can tell you like Ronnie," Ben said, now in another echo-y bathroom. Ronnie and Riley both went red as tomatoes.

"W-what?! I'm on this connection, you know! Twit!" Ronnie exclaimed.

"I..I...No I don't!" Riley tried, but Ben just laughed, knowing the two had just proven his point.

"From the sound of it, Ronnie likes you, too."

Riley looked over to the brunette beside him, who was avoiding his gaze. Finally, Ronnie looked up, her hair covering nearly two thirds of her face. She pulled her tipped bangs away from her eyes partially. For a moment it seemed time stood still, as blue eyes met with brown.

"Je... Je pense que je vous aime," Ronnie whispered. Their faces only an inch away now, Riley closed the gap and pressed his lips against hers.

Once the two pulled away, he whispered four words, covering the mic. "I love you, too."

"Um, guys?" Ben asked.

"Y-yeah?" Ronnie replied, turning back to the screens.

"It's working."

"Unbelievable," Riley whispered.

After a few minutes of silence, Ben's voice came through the headsets again. "We're in the elevator," he said.

"No, _you're_ in the elevator."

"Whatever! Riley you ready?" Ben replied. Before Riley could respond, Ben listed the letters. "A...e...f...g...l...o...r...v...y."

"Anagrams being listed..." Riley mumbled.

"Valley Forge. She pressed 'e' and 'l' twice," Ronnie stated.

"You're starting to scare me, Ronnie," Ben said, as he appeared on the Preservation Room feed.

"Hello!" Riley and Ronnie said jubilantly. They saw Ben shake his head.

"Okay, pick it up Ben..." Ronnie whispered, getting fidgety. Soon the screens went blank.

"I lost my feed," Riley stated, checking the cords and monitors frantically.

"What?"

"I lost my feed, Ben. I don't know where anyone is. I have nothing. Ben, I have no...Ben, I have nothing!" Riley panicked.

"Get out of there. Get out of there now!" Ronnie shouted into the mic.

"Okay. One, calm down. Two, I'm taking the whole thing. I'll get it out in the elevator," Ben replied.

"Wh-what?" Riley stammered, still freaked from losing the feed. "Is it heavy?" Ronnie shook her head.

"Why me?" she joked.

"Gates," came a soft, English accented voice. Ian. Gunshots were heard.

"What was that?" Riley asked.

"Gunshots, dur!" Ronnie replied. "Who's shooting? Ian?"

"I'm in the elevator. Yeah, that was Ian."

"God, I hate that guy..." Riley sighed.

"Where are you, Ben? Where are you?" Riley sang, now in the driver's seat, and Ronnie beside him, giggling.

"You're actually a decent singer, Riley," she said.

"Stop talking," came Ben's voice, after a long silence. "Start the van."

Riley jumped slightly, and turned the keys, the van coming to life with a quiet purr. "Ben, the...the mean Declaration lady's behind you," he stammered.

"Hey," Abigail said, coming up from behind.

"Oh, it's you. Hello," Ben greeted, turning around.

"Mr. Brown, what's going on? What's that?"

"It's a souvenir."

"Really?" Abigail asked.

"Stop chatting and get in the van!" Riley shouted. Ronnie slapped him, covering his mouth, her other palm pressed against her forehead.

"Did you enjoy the party?" Ben asked.

"Yeah..." Abigail responded. Alarms went off on the Archives building, and Abi turned, gaping. Ronnie moaned loudly, slinking down in her seat.

"Oh, my God," Riley groaned.

"Oh, my God! You did not...?" Abigail shouted, turning back to Ben.

"No..."

"Security! Over here!" she shouted again. Reaching for the Declaration, she yelled, "Give me that!"

"It's yours. Take it!" Ben said, letting go.

"Security!" Abi screamed again, running towards the National Archives building, letting Ben climb into the van. "Over here! Security!"

Another van pulled up, Abigail disappearing behind it, and then it pulled away, Abigail gone. "Wait, hold it! Bad, no, bad, bad, bad..." Ben whispered. "Go! Go!" he yelled.

"Once we catch them, what are we going to do?" Riley asked, following the white van.

"Working on it," Ben replied.

"Right turn, right turn..." Riley mumbled, violently twisting the wheel. "Skidding! Skidding! Skidding!" The back doors of the white van open suddenly, Abigail clutching one, screaming.

"Oh no!" Ben whispered.

"Holy, Lord!"

"Get me next to her!" Ben demanded. Riley maneuvered the van, now parallel to the white one. Ian reached out, grabbing the Declaration. "Abigail! Jump!" Ben shouted. Abi jumped, and Ben closed the door of the van quickly.

"Are you all right?" Ben asked.

"No! Those lunatics..."

"You're not hurt, are you?" Ben persisted.

"You are all lunatics!" Abigail exclaimed.

"Yeah, great. Back sass the people who just saved your life," Ronnie commented, rolling her eyes.

"Are you hungry?" Ben tried.

"What?" Abigail replied.

"Are you all right?" the man repeated.

"Still a little on edge from being shot at, but I'll be OK. Thanks for asking," Riley responded, making Ronnie giggle.

"Yeah, well, I'm not all right. Those men have the Declaration of Independence!" Abigail exclaimed.

"She lost it?!" Riley asked, almost yelling.

"They don't have it. See? OK? Now could you please stop shouting?" Ben said, pulling out the real Declaration.

"Give me that!" Abigail shouted, reaching forward.

"You're still shouting. And it's starting to annoy. You'd do well, Dr Chase, to be a bit more civilized in this instance." Ronnie tried hard not to laugh. She failed.

"If this is the real one, what did they get?" Abi asked quietly.

"A souvenir. I thought it'd be a good idea to have a duplicate. It turned out I was right. I actually had to pay for the souvenir and the real one, so you owe me $35 plus tax." Ben smiled.

"Genius," Riley replied from the front seat.

"Who were those men?"

"Just the guys we warned you were gonna steal the Declaration," Ben replied.

"And you didn't believe us!" Ronnie and Riley said, smiling.

"We did the only thing we could do to keep it safe."

"Verdammt! Give me that!" Abigail shouted again.

"You know something? You're shouting again."

"I'm pretty sure she was swearing, too," Riley said.

"She was. 'Verdammt' is German for 'damn,'" Ronnie replied.

"Well, we probably deserve that."


	4. Patrick's House

**A.N.: **_Hello again. Sorry about the fluff in the last chapter. But it's a fluffy-__ish__ story. So deal._

_If you have ideas for anything you want to see, like something you want Ronnie to say in a certain scene, or anything you want to see at all, review! You know you want to!!!_

**bdbdbdbdbdbdbd**

"There is not a treasure map on the back of the Declaration of Independence," Abigail sighed, again.

"And there's no chance anyone can steal this," Ben shook the container the Declaration was in, "either! I leveled with you 100 per cent. Everything I told you was the truth."

"I want that document, Mr. Brown!"

"OK, my name's not Brown. It's Gates. I leveled with you 98 per cent."

"Wait a minute, did you just say 'Gates'?" Abigail asked. "Gates? You're that family with the conspiracy theory about the Founding Fathers?"

"It's not a conspiracy theory," Ben stated.

"Per se," Riley interjected.

You know what? I take it back. You're not liars. You're insane!" Abigail retaliated.

"Gee, can you tell me anything I _didn't _already know?!" Ronnie asked, glaring at the blonde.

"You can't seriously intend to run chemical tests on the Declaration of Independence in the back of a moving van," Abi continued.

"We have a clean-room environment all set up. EDS suits, a particulate air filtration system, the whole shebang," Ronnie told her in a yada-yada tone, turning around.

"Really?"

"We can't go back there," Ben said.

"What? Why not?" was Riley's response. Ronnie did a double take on her face-palm.

"A credit-card slip?!" Riley exclaimed, after Ben admitted the truth about his purchasing the Declaration double. "Dude, we're on the grid! They'll have your records from forever. They'll have _my_ records from forever!"

"I know. I know. It's only a matter of minutes before the FBI shows up at my front door."

"What do we do?" Riley asked, still overwhelmed by Ben's credit card fiasco.

"We need those letters."

"What letters?" Abi asked quietly.

"You know, get off the road, take a right," Ben stated.

"What letters?" Abigail repeated.

**bdbdbdbdbdbdbd**

"You have the original Silence Dogood letters? Did you steal those, too?"

"We have scans of the originals," Ronnie said, before Ben could. "Quiet, please. He's trying to think!"

"How'd you get scans?" Abigail persisted.

"Oh, I know the person who has the originals. Now shush," Ben told her, pacing in the wet grass.

"Why do you need them?"

"She really can't shut her mouth, can she?" Ben asked, looking to Riley and Ronnie, who were still seated in the van. They shrugged.

"I'll tell you what, look. I will let you hold onto this," Ben handed her the container of the Declaration of Independence, "if you'll promise to shut up, please! Thank you."

Riley "Ben, you know what you have to do."

"I know what to do. I'm just trying to think of anything else we could do," Ben replied, still pacing.

"Hey look! Riley, look at that, I can see a bit of a hole..." Ronnie whispered, pointing to where Ben was pacing.

Riley smiled, but his face fell again. "Well, not to be a... _nudge_, but you do realize how many people we have after us? We probably have our own satellite by now."

"It took you all of two seconds to decide

to steal the Declaration of Independence," Ronnie said quickly.

"Yeah, but I didn't think I was gonna personally have to tell my dad about it!" Ben replied. Abigail stood suddenly and ran, clutching the Declaration. "Hey, not cool! Not cool!" Ben shouted, running after her, and grabbing her arms.

"Let me go!" Abigail screamed. Ben took the Declaration of Independence from her, and let go.

"OK. You're let go. Go, shoo."

"I'm not going. Not without the Declaration."

"You're not going _with_ the Declaration," Ronnie laughed.

"Yes, I am. I'm not letting it out of my sight, so I'm going," Abigail replied, completely serious.

"Wait. You're not going with us with the Declaration," Ben said.

"Yes, I am."

"No, you're not."

"Look, if you wanted to leave me behind, you shouldn't have told me where you were going."

Ronnie shook her head. "Oooh," she whispered. "She's got'cha there." Riley groaned and leaned against the seat.

**bdbdbdbdbdbdbd**

"Looks OK."

"Park a couple of blocks away," Ben said.

"Well, how long do you think we got?" Ronnie asked.

"I'm gonna give them a couple of hours at least. I hope."

"What do we do about her? I've got some duct tape in the back," Riley said, smiling. Ronnie rubbed her hands together maniacally.

"No, that won't be necessary." Crossing her arms, the brunette gave a loud, "Hmph!" and pouted. "She won't be any trouble. Promise you won't be any trouble," replied Ben, looking at the blonde Abigail.

"I promise."

"See? She's curious," Ben replied, smiling. Riley shook his head, coming to a stop and parking. The four clambered out, walking to the front door of one of the houses. The door opened, revealing an elderly man.

"Dad," Ben greeted.

"Where's the party?" joked Patrick Gates.

"Well... I'm in a little trouble," Ben started.

"Is one of them pregnant? Both?"

Ronnie went white. "Well, if they were, are you gonna leave the woman carrying your grandchild standing out in the cold?" Ben asked. Reluctantly, the group was let inside.

"I look pregnant?" Abigail and Ronnie whispered to Riley. He shook his head.

"This better not be about that dumb treasure. Well, have a seat. Make yourselves comfortable. There's some pizza. It's still warm, I think," Patrick said.

"Dad...I need the Silence Dogood letters. Yeah, it's about the treasure."

"And he dragged you three into this nonsense?" Patrick asked, looking at Riley, Ronnie, who were stuffing slices of pizza in their faces, and Abigail, who just stood quietly.

"Literally," The blonde mumbled.

"I volunteered," Riley and Ronnie said.

"Well, un-volunteer, before you waste your life."

"Knock it off, Dad."

"Sure, sure, I know, I'm the family kook. I have a job, a house, health insurance. At least I had your mother, for however brief a time. At least I had you. What do you have? Them?" Mr. Gates motioned to Riley and Ronnie, who looked up.

"Look, if you just give us the letters, we're gone," Ben tried.

"You disappoint me, Ben."

"Well, maybe that's the real Gates-family legacy. Sons who disappoint their fathers!" Ben retaliated. Ronnie cringed.

"Ouch. Harsh, dude," she whispered.

"Get out. Take your troubles with you."

"I found the Charlotte!" Ben told him.

"The Charlotte? You mean she was a ship?" Patrick asked.

"Yeah, she was beautiful. It was amazing, Dad," Ben said.

"And the treasure?"

"No, no. But we found another clue that led us here," Ronnie piped up, cheerily.

"Yeah, and that'll lead you to another clue. And that's all you'll ever find, is another clue. Don't you get it, Ben? I finally figured it out. The legend says that the treasure was buried to keep it from the British. But what really happened was the legend was invented, to keep the British occupied searching for buried treasure. The treasure is a myth!" Patrick said, his voice filled with emotion.

"I refuse to believe that."

"Well, you can believe what you want. You're a grown person. What am I doing? Do what you want, Ben. Do what you want," Patrick mumbled, giving up.

"He's probably right. You don't even know if there is another clue," Abigail said.

"Well, I can think of a way where we could find out. And we can find out right now."

Ben took the Declaration and lay it face down on a table, various things set around it. Ronnie was curled up in a ball under the table. Ben's dad passed by, poking his head in the room.

"Looks like animal skin. How old is it?"

"At least 200 years," Ronnie yawned, her brown eyes closed.

"Really? You sure?"

"Pretty darn," Ben replied, pulling on a pair of latex gloves. Abi did the same.

"Now if this thing's in invisible ink, how do we look at it?" Riley asked, a pair of black glasses on his face.

"Throw it in the oven?" suggested Patrick.

"No!" the three standing exclaimed, while Ronnie mearly let out an in-audible moan.

"Higher sulphate inks can only be brought out with heat," explained Patrick.

"Yes, but this..." Abigail started.

"It's very old. This is very old, and we can't risk compromising the map," Ben said.

"Fine. What's wrong with her?" Patrick asked, gesturing under the table. Riley bent down, and Ben and Abigail leaned over.

"Oh, there you are!" Riley laughed. "What's wrong?" Ronnie emitted another in-audible moan. "Okay..." Riley replied, standing up. He shrugged.

"You need a reagent."

"Dad, it's really late. Why don't you get some rest?" Ben asked, looking at his dad.

"I'm fine!" Patrick called from down the hall.

"Lemons," Ben said, and took a lemon from the bowl handed to him. Ronnie twitched from beneath the table, falling asleep. Ben held the lemon over the Declaration, ready to squeeze the juice from it.

"You can't do that," Abigail said, holding out her hand.

"But it has to be done."

"Then someone who is _trained_ to handle antique documents is gonna do it!" the blonde persisted, taking the lemon from Ben. "OK. Now, if there is a secret message, it'll probably be marked by a symbol in the upper right-hand corner." The blonde rubbed a Q-Tip in the lemon.

"That's right," Ben said, seeming impressed.

"I am so getting fired for this..." she whispered, slowly rubbing the Q-Tip over the right-hand corner.

"I told you. You need heat," Patrick said, again in the doorway. Ben and Abi looked at each other, then hesitantly leaned down and exhaled on the paper. A Templar symbol, and two sets of three numbers, appeared on the paper. "See?"

"We need more juice."

"We need more heat!"

**bdbdbdbdbdbdbbdbd**

"That's not a map. Is it?" Riley asked, after much lemon juice had been wiped and hairdryers had hummed loudly. Ben was busy scribbling the last four sets of numbers down.

"More clues. What a surprise," Patrick mumbled.

"Are those latitudes and longitudes?" Riley persisted.

"That's why we need the Silence Dogood letters." Ben said suddenly, looking over the notepad.

"That's the key?"

"Yeah. 'The key in Silence undetected.' Dad, can we have the letters now?" Ben asked to Patrick.

"Will _somebody_ please explain to me what these magic numbers are?" Riley asked again.

"It's an Ottendorf cipher," Abigail pronounced, turning off the hairdryer.

"That's right," Patrick said.

"Oh, OK. What's an Ottendorf cipher?" Riley asked, examining the notepad Ben had scribbled each number on.

"They're just codes. Each of these three numbers corresponds to a word in a key. Usually a random book

or a newspaper article. In this case, the Silence Dogood letters. So it's like the page number of the key text, the line on the page, and the letter in that line," Ronnie yawned, from under the table. Riley leaned over, smiling. The girl was still curled up into a ball. She could have fit under Patrick's sink.

"So, Dad, where are the letters?" Ben asked, walking to his father.

"You know, it's just by sheer happenstance

that his grandfather..." Patrick started, stalling time. Riley was now sitting on the floor, poking Ronnie's spine.

"Dad."

"...even found them. They were in an antique desk

from the press room..." Patrick continued, avoiding Ben.

"Dad," Ben persisted.

"...of The New England Courant. That's a newspaper."

"Dad, where are the letters?" Ben asked.

"I don't have them, son."

"What?"

"I don't have them," Patrick repeated.

"Where are they?" Ben asked.

"He donated them to the Franklin Institute

in Philadelphia," Ronnie said quietly, through yawns. "Stop poking me, Riley," she added.

"Time to go," Ben announced, walking back to the table and picking things up.

"I still can't believe it. All this time no one knew what was on the back..." Abigail said, softly running her fingers along the edge of the paper.

"The back of what?" Patrick asked, starting to turn over the Declaration.

"No!" everyone exclaimed, Ronnie bolting upright and smacking her head on the underside of the table. "Ow," she moaned, rubbing her scalp.

"Oh, my God. Oh, my God," Patrick exclaimed, stepping back.

"I know," Ben whispered.

"Oh, my God. What have you done? This is... this is the..."

"I know!" Ben continued.

"This is the Declaration of Independence!"

"Yes. And it's very delicate," Abi said quietly, taking the document from Patrick.

"You stole it?"

"Dad, I can explain, but I don't have time. It was necessary. And you saw the cipher!" Ben tried.

"And that will lead to another clue, and that will lead to another clue!" Patrick retaliated. "There is no treasure. I wasted 20 years of my life. And now you've destroyed yours! And you pulled me into all this."

"Well, we can't have that," Ben smiled. Ronnie rubbed her hands maniacally, grabbing Riley's backpack. She crawled out from under the table and stood, twirling a roll of duct tape on her finger.


End file.
